


A Love for All Seasons

by WearingOutWinter



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Incest, Sibling Incest, but that doesn't mean the others don't have their place, winter is the best season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearingOutWinter/pseuds/WearingOutWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter is easy for Elsa. It's the rest of the year that she needs a little help with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Love for All Seasons

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Любовь на все времена](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215253) by [Jiminy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiminy/pseuds/Jiminy)



Elsa knows winter, better than anything. She feels it tremble in her fingertips, sleep behind her eyes. She feels it in the soles of her feet, when she leaves frost behind with every step, and carries its chill on her brow as surely as she wears her crown. Elsa knows winter. When it comes to the other seasons, she has to look elsewhere. But somehow, she never has to look further than her sister.

She finds spring in Anna's smile, each morning when she wakes. Bright and easy as the sunrise, it warms Elsa whenever she sees it, whether it's across a hall, as Anna breezes through one of her royal audiences, or quiet and private, as they retire for the evening. She finds spring in Anna's freckles, dusted like fresh seeds across her skin. Elsa finds spring in the kisses Anna places on her neck, soft and gentle as rain.

Elsa finds summer in Anna's laugh, light and golden, when she trails her fingers up her little sister's ribs. It's a laugh that only Elsa ever hears, so different from the ones she gives to Olaf's antics or the small jokes told around the table in the banquet hall. She finds summer in Anna's heartbeat, fast and frantic, when there is nothing between them but a thin layer of warm sweat. Elsa finds summer between Anna's legs, in the sticky wetness that clings to her fingers, her lips, her tongue.

Elsa finds autumn in Anna's hair, silky auburn that curls and dips and flows over her fingers. Sometimes, Anna kneels on their bed and lets Elsa braid it for her, and when she does, Elsa always pays special attention to the single strand of pale blonde: the first frost upon fallen leaves. She finds autumn in Anna's fingernails, brittle and sharp against her yielding flesh. Elsa finds autumn in Anna's voice, calm and quiet, when they whisper together in the darkness.

Elsa knows winter: it is with her, always. No matter the time of year, the dead season, the season of endings, prowls beside her, pacing and growling like a starving wolf. But in quiet moments, when Anna's head is pillowed on her chest, or her sister's arms are tight around her waist, or their fingers brush and meet and twine together... then, Elsa feels the wolf of winter cease its pacing, feels it curl up at her feet, meek and quiet. When she is alone, disconnected, the winter Elsa carries with her feels strange, unnatural. But when she and Anna are together, and her winter is wrapped autumn and spring, with summer close behind, then Elsa is exactly where she belongs.  

**Author's Note:**

> It's been ages since I've posted anything, so... have an incestuous little drabble to keep you warm through the longest nights of the year. 
> 
> I feel this is a ship I'll be going back to soon, so apologies to those of you who are squicked out by it.


End file.
